


Kiss my aches away

by Jaskiers_BrokenLute



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angry Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:13:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23408860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaskiers_BrokenLute/pseuds/Jaskiers_BrokenLute
Summary: Jaskier is tortured for information on Geralt while Geralt is taking a contract
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 5
Kudos: 517





	Kiss my aches away

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty much exactly like every other fic following this theme, not betad so sorry for any mistakes.

"What? How am I supposed to write the tales of your adventures if I can't come with you?" Jaskier demanded, following Geralt around the small room as he put his armor on and collected his needed belongings. 

"How are you to write them if you're dead?" He shot back, securing his swords to his body. 

"You've never been concerned about that before,"   
Geralt stopped moving and turned to Jaskier with a raised eyebrow until Jaskier gave in with a huff and crossed his arms over his chest in defeat. 

"Usually there's only one threat, I can cover us both, with a pack I can't." He explained, trying to say without actually saying 'I'm trying to protect you' 

"Oh, so me being condemned to our room is an act of selfless care to keep me out of harm's way?" 

"I never said you were condemned to the room." Was all he said back, finishing the process of tightening his armor and making sure he had everything he needed to take out the monsters that were terrorizing the village. 

The contract holder didn't know what it was that was killing people, only that there was more than one since multiple attacks were happening in the span of a few minutes on opposite sides of town.   
Jaskier huffed with a childish scowl on his face, sitting down on the bed. 

"Fine, but you owe me a story when you get back, and it better not be 'I killed it'" He said in an exaggerated deep voice, puffing out his chest in a poor impression of Geralt.

"I make no promises," Geralt replied opening the door to their shared room. 

"Don't die!" Jaskier called as he disappeared from view, flopping onto his back once he couldn't hear the Witcher's footprints anymore. 

He'd resigned himself to a boring day, but wasn't exactly against the idea, with the life he has a boring day can be a blessing, a break from the insanity he usually found himself wrapped in at Geralt's side (even if he's usually the one who brought the insanity upon the pair of them while Geralt brooded in the corner somewhere)

Instead of wasting the quiet day, however, he decided to finish the half-finished compositions that he hardly ever had time to work on, between hours spent walking behind Roach and nights under the stars spent sleeping the exhaustion of his previous task off. 

He made quick work of two songs, partway through the third when he was interrupted by the sound of knocking on the door. 

Quietly he stepped off the bed and grabbed the silver dagger Geralt had given him for if he ever had to defend himself, pushing the sheathed blade into his trousers and cautiously walking towards the door, a growing anxiety deep in his stomach whenever something even marginally suspicious happened without Geralt around.   
Jaskier was by no means helpless, but if he were up against more than two men or some type of monster with equal or more strength than such he had a very good chance of being knocked on his arse, or far worse for that matter. 

Opening the door just a bit, he shoved his foot under the wood to keep it from being opened any more. 

"Hello?" He asked softly, not looking through the crack and not leaving any room for whoever was on the other side to see him. His heart was racing, Geralt taught him to be wary of everything, and it had set into him that everything he wasn't expecting was a threat. 

Unsurprisingly, even suspecting a threat can't stop them, so instead of a verbal reply the door was shoved open and Jaskier pushed to the ground and the skin on the toes that had been shoved under the door ripped off. 

Before he could get up or shout for help one of the people that had broken into the room had one hand over his mouth and the other holding a knife to his throat.   
He froze, trying to keep his breathing in control and not giving the man behind him the satisfaction of his fear. Being in danger was a given for him, but it was always worse being at the mercy of humans instead of actual monsters and without Geralt even in the same town. 

"Where is he?" Once the, now five people were inside and the door was shut, the man holding the blade to his throat finally revealed what the hell they wanted with him.   
He pulled his hand off of Jaskier's mouth slowly, making it silently clear that trying anything besides answering the question was a very stupid idea.

"Taking a contract," He replied quickly,

Another one of the men stepped forward and delivered a swift kick to his ribs, not hard enough to break anything but knocking the breath out of Jaskier's lungs with a wheeze from the latter.

"He asked where he was, not what he was doing bard." He hissed, stepping back once again. 

"He didn't tell me where he was going, and even if he did I wouldn't tell you." He spoke back once he had caught his breath, making him understand further every time Geralt said it would be his voice that got him killed. 

"I'd love to believe you, really, but you know how this goes." The man behind him spoke in a low voice, close enough to his ear that he could feel his breath against him. 

Jaskier clenched his teeth and felt fear spike up inside of him, of course, this is when people decide to take him hostage and force answers out of him, thugs needed to get better at timing their torture sessions.

"Yeah, I get tradition and all but maybe we could just talk this out?" Jaskier spoke as the knife was pulled away from his throat and he was forced to his feet, two people, a man and women respectively grabbing each of his arms in iron tight grips, leaving no room for him to pull away. 

"Great idea, the sooner you talk the sooner we can put this whole disagreement behind us." 

"Wonderful! I don't know where he is." He deadpanned. 

"Sorry, that's just not going to do. We have plenty of questions and even more fun ways of getting answers out of you." The man who had previously been holding a knife to his throat walk in a tight circle until he was standing in front of Jaskier, spinning the dagger around in his hand with a graceful movement of his wrist so the blade wasn't facing Jaskier, and was instead pressed to the inside of his own wrist. 

He grabbed Jaskier face in his free hand, pinching his cheeks together in a way that caused his lips to pucker out and moved it side to side, examining Jaskier as if he were to be bought. 

"Right, good," Jaskier answered, his voice a bit slurred due to the pressure on his cheeks. 

"The talkers are always fun, you can really tell when you've broken them." He said, dropping his hand away from Jaskier's face and looking to one of the men who wasn't currently holding Jaskier's arms, signaling for him to grab something that Jaskier couldn't see. 

A chair was pulled up to the center of the room, Jaskier forced into it and his arms and legs restrained against it so his range of motion was restricted solely to his head. 

They shoved a dirty piece of cloth in his mouth and tied an additional torn cloth around his head to keep it there. It tasted like the bottom of Roache's hooves, he had to hold back gags at the taste forced onto his tongue.

"Usually I'm against gagging, not great for questioning and I do so love the sounds people make. But you know, can't have anyone hearing you scream." 

Jaskier was trying his best to not look as terrified as he was, but it flowed like ice through his veins with every ominous step the man took around him.   
He used his finger to signal one of the men closer, retrieving a bag from said man before sending him back to where he was standing in front of the door. 

He unrolled the package revealing an impressive array of blades and other such tools, things that made Jaskier's heart stutter and his palms sweat.

"Any preference?" He asked, running his finger against the tools. 

Jaskier shrugged to the best of his abilities, surprised he hadn't broken already. He simply kept reminding himself that for all Geralt's done for him the least he could do is not tell these freaks where he was.   
Of course, he knew Geralt could easily take five men, but he didn't know how many more there could be and the witcher was already facing an undetermined number of monsters so any added offense could be fatal. 

"Great, then I'll start with my personal favorite." He pulled an expensive-looking dagger out of the roll, sheathing the one he had already been holding. This one was made of a shinier silver than the last, with a leather handle, worn from use, a contrast to the clean blade. Jaskier couldn't help but wonder how many people before him had been at the business end of this particular knife. 

"A simple blade. Torture has become so competitive these days, fancy devices and machines." He gestured with the weapon as he spoke, making it seem like he and Jaskier were in casual conversation and what he was holding wasn't about to be used to pry information out of the other man. 

"Sure they work, but there's no fun in that. Knives are so much more interactive, slow, you can watch the effects in their eyes. You do have lovely eyes, I think I'll enjoy this." His voice was steady, even sweet, what was so much more horrifying to be at the receiving end of than the usual gruff and intimidating voices that came with this situation. 

"It's a shame to ruin these clothes, must have cost you a pretty penny." He kneeled down and pressed the blade against Jaskier's clothed forearm, pushing down just enough to break the skin.   
He winced but didn't give anymore reaction than that, watching as the punctured hole in his arm caused a red stain to quickly spread through the light blue fabric of his tunic. 

The man met his eyes with an intense, searching stare as he dragged the blade down the length of his arm, creating a shallow gash that ran from the crook of his elbow to the inside of his wrist. 

Jaskier held the stare the entire time, not wavering even as his arm felt like it was on fire. 

"Impressive, I like a challenge." He smiled and removed the blade from his arm, the sleeve now completely ruined, torn and stained. Damn, it had cost a lot. 

Matching cuts were made on his other arm and both of his thighs, the latter hurt more than his arms surprisingly, the man dared to go deeper then, not afraid of knicking a vein there, and careful of his artery. He appeared to be practiced at this, which was just great for Jaskier. 

"Now, tell me, bard, where is the witcher?" He put the knife back down and pulled the gag out, the wet fabric hanging across his neck. 

"I thought you were good at this, I've had worse from a kitten," He spat, knowing it was the wrong thing to say, but hell if he didn't enjoy it.   
The man laughed and put the gag back in his mouth. 

"Wrong answer," 

The next question came quicker than he'd expected and was the last thing he wanted to hear, his last source of even minuscule comfort being ripped from his grasp. 

"What's this?" The man questioned after he ripped open Jaskier's tunic and jerkin, revealing both his bare chest and the decorated handle of his dagger.   
Jaskier let out a muffled, 'fuck', as the weapon was pulled out of his waistband. 

"Adorable, he's teaching you well." He spoke as he examined the expensive, embellished handle.

"It's a good blade, suits you," He spoke referring to the design around the base, an emerald surrounded by polished silver and carved out leather. It cost Geralt almost an entire contract pay, Jaskier cherished it. 

He took Jaskier's hand and layed it flat against the chair, Jaskier's eyes widened when he realized what the man was planning, and despite his best efforts screamed out against the gag as the knife went straight through his hand and into the wood of the chair. It burned with pain like nothing he's ever felt. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to ignore the agony, knowing that it was only the beginning of what was to come, the fear he had been holding back bubbling over and turning into pure terror inside of him.

"Ready to speak yet? I'd hate to rid you of your hands. I heard you play last night, Beautiful," He spoke flicking the handle of his dagger so it moved in his hand, sparks of pain shooting through his arm up to the shoulder.  
Jaskier shook his head to the best of his abilities, even if the thought of never playing again hurt more than the blade through his hand. 

"Very well," He sighed and stood up, his position being taken over by a bulkier man holding a wooden baton.

******

When the apparent leader re-appeared in front of him, Jaskier felt like his entire body was made of bruises. His right eye was swollen, his jaw and nose were no better off and both covered in blood. A few of his ribs were definitely broken if the pain of inhaling was anything to go by, one of his feet felt like it had been crushed under a boulder, and his mouth was full of the disgusting coppery taste of blood that he couldn't get rid of.   
Tear tracks endowed his face along with the injuries, the pain intense and never-ending, worse than anything he'd felt before. 

"Still had worse from a kitten?" He asked once he'd been content with Jaskier's state. 

He didn't spare even a look at the man this time, feeling far too tired to challenge him any further just yet, but he wouldn't let him win.

"Ah, there it is. People like you always lose the edge eventually, perhaps you've thought more about our question. The answer and you're free to go."  
Jaskier didn't believe him but nodded anyway. 

"Good boy," He smirked and removed the gag once more, 

"So?" Jaskier grinned and opened his mouth to make it look like he would tell him, but instead spat out the mouthful of blood that had built up, laughing when the majority of it landed on the other man's face.   
That seemed to remove the gentle nature to the man, who stood up and punched Jaskier hard against his already bruise jaw, causing more blood to fly out of his mouth, as well as a strained gasp. 

He harshly wiped the blood and saliva off his face, his eyes hard and cruel as he glared at the beaten and bound man in front of him. 

"Not very smart boy,"

******

Geralt had collected his coin for killing what turned out to just be an alghoul, and was on his way back to the inn, stopping just inside when the sharp smell of blood invaded his still heightened senses. 

He wavered for a moment with the force of the scent and quickly regained his posture, already feeling the familiar fear rise inside him at the thought of Jaskier being the one who'd lost enough blood to make the scent that strong. He couldn't leave the man alone for a few hours without him getting into some sort of trouble it seemed. 

He walked silently towards the door to their room, of course, the sharp coppery smell was coming from there. It seemed the universe had it out for him, eager to take Jaskier away from as soon as it could, he wouldn't allow that.

He pushed the door open hard enough to knock the man guarding it to the ground, he saw red when he caught sight of Jaskier, who somehow found it in himself to smile weakly at the witcher when their eyes met. 

The men all turned to look at the intruder quickly arming themselves when they recognized him. 

"Get away from him," He spoke, more of a growl than clear words. 

"Drop your sword." The man covered in what looked like his friend's blood, shot back, ripping the dagger out of Jaskier's hand and holding it to his throat once again. Jaskier's muffled cry of pain making him wish every person here a slow and painful death, preferably at his own hands. 

Geralt looked around once, he couldn't make any progress on the men in the room without the knife making it into Jaskier's throat, but he also knew he didn't need a sword to take out five men. 

He dropped it to the floor and kicked it away from him, raising his hands above his head. 

"Good," He pulled the dagger away from Jaskier's throat, shoving it back into his hand with a sickening grin on his face as Jaskier's head fell back, the pain too much for him to stay conscious, and the blood loss couldn't be helping his case either. 

"Stop! I swear you'll wish you'd never been born when I get my hands on you," He felt like he was burning from the inside out with rage. The man only laughed and stepped away from Jaskier. 

"What do you want?" Geralt asked through gritted teeth. 

"You know there are a lot of people who would pay more money than you could imagine to have your head on a spike? Now, I know I'm nowhere near good enough to kill the likes of you, but some people would prefer you delivered alive anyway, I had no idea how I was going to pull that off, until I saw you a few towns back, with a little pet following you around," He grabbed Jaskier by the hair and forced his head up as he spoke,

"Your weak spot," He continued, dropping Jaskier's head back down.

"Okay, let him go and I'll come with you," 

"And people say Witcher's can't feel," He laughed to himself, signaling with his hand for his men to untie Jaskier, his second big mistake of the day. 

The second Jaskier was laid on the bed Geralt let go of his restraint and went for the first man, breaking his neck in one swift movement, grabbing his sword when he spun to avoid a hit to his face. He drove the steel through the next two men who ran at him, using the momentum of freeing the sword from them to hit another across the head with the handle. Now the only man left was the leader, standing a bit dazed in front of him, clearly too dull to expect this outcome, as if Geralt would simply leave Jaskier here to die and follow someone blindly to his death. 

He wanted to drag out the death of this man, who dared to hurt Jaskier in front of him, wanted him to feel all the pain he'd brought upon the other man, but Jaskier was already unconscious and with the extent of his injuries still unknown to Geralt, he couldn't let him stay asleep without risking far more than he was willing to risk. 

"You're lucky I'm only going to kill you," He growled, stabbing him through the stomach and dropping him to the ground with the rest of his men. 

"Geralt," Jaskier's voice was weak and stole all the anger from Geralt's mind, replacing it with fear deeper than he'd ever known it. 

"Jaskier," He fell to his knees in front of the bed, gently taking Jaskier's head in his hands, getting a closer look at the damage there.

Jaskier melted into the soft touch, letting himself relax, finally safe. 

"You need a doctor," He said softly, moving his hands down from his face to his chest, pressing against the bruised ribs to check for breaks, which he found far quicker than he'd hoped.   
Before he continued his search he ripped a strip of fabric off of Jaskier's already torn shirt and wrapped it tight around his heavily bleeding hand, wincing at the damage.   
If this couldn't heal he'd never forgive himself. 

"Yeah, doctor sounds good." He replied, his eyelids becoming heavier by the second. 

"Don't you dare fall asleep," He spoke quickly when he heard the slur in his words.   
He stopped his examination, putting finding a healer as his number one priority. 

"I'm going to pick you up," He said, giving barely a second for Jaskier to register the words before he was being scooped up into Geralt's arms. His wounds pulled and shifted as he was lifted, groaning in pain but leaning into the touch none the less.

Geralt tried his best not to aggravate anything further as he carried Jaskier out of the inn and into town. He could feel Jaskier's will to stay awake slipping as his head rested against his chest, but he could hear his breathing and heartbeat, while both far too fast, were there. 

He found the healer thankfully fast and quickly explained the situation, letting the woman take over as Jaskier was placed on the table, now completely unconscious once again.

He couldn't recall the last time he was this scared, the bruising and cuts that covered Jaskier's body were bad and deep in their respects, he could only imagine how bad it must have hurt. He'll never understand how Jaskier sat through this instead of telling them where he was, they would need to have a very serious talk about self-preservation when Jaskier got better. 

"Will he be okay?" He asked once the healer had bandaged and applied some sort of healing measure to all of Jaskier's wounds. 

"Aside from scars he should make a full recovery, I do worry for his hand though, the blade didn't damage anything major but movement may be a bit restricted for a while, possibly forever."

"Is there anything you can do?" He couldn't bear to know how Jaskier would react if he was told he could never play again. As annoying as it could be, he knew it would destroy the bard. 

"There are a few magical remedies, mages I can contact, but they're not cheap." 

"Anything you must do," He answered without hesitation, willing to give any amount of coin for Jaskier to be okay. 

She nodded and began mixing ingredients and potions together. Geralt sat at Jaskier's side and took his good hand into his own, hating how helpless he felt looking at Jaskier's bruised and still bloody face, knowing he could have stopped this.

"I'm sorry," He whispered just loud enough for himself to hear. 

\-------------------------------------------

Hours later, when the sun was set completely Jaskier woke up, feeling stiff and stinging with pain everywhere. He let out a small choked noise as he tried to clear up his surroundings and figure out where he was. 

His eyes landed on Geralt, sat at his bedside with one hand tangled in his own. His cheeks flushed as he smiled up at the witcher, even if it hurt his sore jaw and split lip. 

"Geralt," He spoke, pulling Geralt from whatever thought he was so lost in. 

"Jaskier," he breathed, surprisingly not letting go of Jaskier's hand but instead tightening his grip.   
"How do you feel?" 

"Like I've been trampled by every horse in the continent. But other than that pretty good," he answered, feeling better just from Geralt's smile in response. 

"You scared me," Geralt managed, allowing the show of weakness that he would normally never allow. 

"You say that as if I did this on purpose," He joked, trying to hide how much it meant to him to have such an obvious show of affection from Geralt, even if it hurt to be the cause of his friends worry. 

"Hey," He spoke again when Geralt didn't answer, only looking down at their connected hands.   
"I'm okay," 

"You're far from okay," he responded quickly, giving Jaskier a once over. He definitely looked better than he had yesterday, but he was still covered in blood-soaked bandages and dark bruises that couldn't be hidden behind wrapping and salves.

"Fair, but I'm alive, and I will be okay. And, this is not your fault, I know you're thinking about every way that it could be and all the things you could have done, but listen to me Geralt, there was nothing to be done except for what you did," Geralt couldn't understand the way Jaskier was trying to comfort him when he was the one in a hospital bed after being tortured. It was one of the things that made Jaskier himself, he seemed so self-centered at first glance, but when it came down to it he always put the people he cared for before him. He loved that about as much as he hated it. 

He wished just once Jaskier would put himself first, complain about the pain he was in and curse Geralt for leaving him behind, not look at him with such love and trust in those achingly bright eyes. 

The bard was so much stronger than anyone gave him credit for, himself most of all.   
He put up a certain facade for everyone else, but never for Geralt, where he was brave and stronger than the mountains, loud and unforgiving in all that he does. It was hardly Geralt's fault Jaskier had wormed his way so deep into his heart. 

"What's that look for?" Jaskier broke the silence, studying the small smile trained on him, Geralt look unbelievably fond. 

"I think I love you," 

Geralt was just as shocked as Jaskier was once the words left his mouth, both staring at each other in awkward silence. 

"Oh," Jaskier breathed, "Well that's good, I mean all except for the 'think' bit because Geralt of Rivea, I Julien Alfred Pankratz, have been in love with you for years. I thought you knew that though I wasn't exactly subtle." 

Geralt he couldn't help but notice how happy he felt as if things were falling into place for the first time in his mess of a life. Of course, he'd prefer if the circumstances were different, but somehow it felt like they needed a bit of a push to come together. 

"Geralt,"

"Hmm?" 

"Stop disappearing in that brain of yours and kiss my aches away,"


End file.
